


Train Bound for Nowhere

by TeamHPForever



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-06
Updated: 2014-06-06
Packaged: 2018-02-03 16:44:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1751564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeamHPForever/pseuds/TeamHPForever
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eames only has eyes for the dark-haired man in the corner repeatedly rolling a die like he's looking for something.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Train Bound for Nowhere

**Author's Note:**

> Inception is my favorite movie and I adore Arthur/Eames but it was never my intention to actually write them. This fic was inspired by [this post](http://caanism.tumblr.com/post/87808849059/falulatonks-totem-n-an-elegant-solution-to%0A) and the ensuing conversation with my girlfriend in which I failed epically at not reading into the fact that both Eames and Arthur’s totems are gambling related (not sure how I never noticed that before). The title is taken from The Gambler by Kenny Rogers.

Eames shakes his head as he folds his cards and stands up from the table. Collects his chips, making sure to keep them separate from the only one he cares about. The blackjack tables and the slot machines call out to him, but he isn’t interested. Not right now.

He only has eyes for the dark-haired man sitting at the very end of the bar in the corner. He’s been there for at least an hour, just sipping a drink and rolling a single die like he’s looking for something. His eyes are intent and Eames easily recognizes the look of someone questioning reality, knows that drive to check one more time.

Eames weaves across the floor until he reaches the table. The man doesn’t even look up. “Would you really be dreaming about yourself just sitting in a corner?” he asks.

The man’s head jerks up and he scowls. “I’d prefer to be dreaming about winning a million dollars on the slot machine, but stranger things have happened. How’d you know?”

Eames shrugs, taking on a sly grin. He pulls out his poker chip and tries to balance it on the edge. It falls over easily. He breathes out a sigh of relief he didn’t realize he was holding. “You have this look about you. Easy to recognize a kindred spirit.” He moves closer, just barely invading the man’s space, and winks. “I’m Eames.”

“Arthur.” He holds out his hand to shake. Eames does, letting his fingers trace along Arthur’s palm as he lets go. “Do you always pick up men this way?”

“Only the good-looking ones.” Eames smiles and is delighted to see the expression returned, although hesitantly.

“What’s next, are you going to tell me that I’m the man you’ve been seeing in your dreams?” Arthur asks, voice dripping with scorn.

“No, but I do hope what’s next is that I get to see you in my dreams.” Eames glances down to realize he’s moved so close that he practically might as well climb into Arthur’s lap.

Arthur clears his throat. “Would you like to have a drink?”

“Love one.” Eames sits down on his own chair and orders a scotch on the rocks when the bartender comes over. When it arrives, he swishes it around a bit before he drinks.

“Tell me, what is it that you do?” Arthur asks, voice steadier now that Eames is farther away.

“Only if you promise not to run away and leave me alone with my drink.” Eames’s grin is playful but his tone is deadly serious. Even in the business, his profession isn’t necessarily a trusted one.

“I’ve been working in the industry most of my life, I don’t think that you can surprise me.”

Eames grins wider, more predatory this time. “I shall have to work harder then.”

Arthur ignores him. “I do research. Putting together profiles of marks, finding out what sort of security they have, the works.”

“I’m a forger.”

Arthur’s eyebrows raise. “I can’t say I’ve met a real forger before. Any good?”

“Would you like to give me a try and find out?” Eames’s voice is downright obscene as he leans slightly toward him.

Arthur’s eyebrows become in danger of disappearing into his hair. “Maybe if you’re very lucky. You know, I could use a forger on some of my jobs.”

“We’ve only just met. How do I know I can trust you?” The question is pointless; Eames had pretty much decided he could trust this man the moment he started walking over here. He doesn’t normally tell perfect strangers that he works in dream espionage, even attractive ones who seem to be similarly engaged.

“Says the man who takes on roles that actors would never dream of.”

“Fair point.” Eames laughs.

“What brings you here?” Arthur is finally starting to relax a bit, leaning one side against the bar.

“What brings everyone here.” Eames waves his hand at the floor. “I like a bit of risk now and then. Perhaps too much. I should be asking you that question, since you’re sitting over here in the corner.”

“I’m a recovering gambler.” He rolls the dice and seems satisfied with the result. “I’d like to say I enjoy defying temptation but it’s really for a job.” Arthur points across the room to an enormous man playing Texas hold ‘em.

Eames leans back in his chair and takes in the mark. Large, strong, used to getting his way, probably uses threats of violence to keep people in line. Smart, though, and probably good at reading people if the way he’s looking at his competitors is anything to go by. Eames’s body automatically adopts the man’s smaller mannerisms in response to the attention.

“Damn.” Eames looks to see Arthur watching him with an appreciative glimmer in his eye. “You are good.”

“Tell me about him.” Eames fixes his focus back on the mark, narrowing his eyes. He doesn’t know why he’s so eager to show off, it’s not like there is any shortage of work for a man of his skills. He wouldn’t mind finding someone to work with regularly who didn’t leave a bad taste in his mouth, though.

Arthur hesitates and then explains the man’s history. It’s clear that he’s also good at his job. Even the most seemingly insignificant detail isn’t left out.

“What’s the job?” Eames finally tears his eyes away from the man. He’s been staring at him for more than enough time already. Someone might get suspicious.

“Convince him that counting cards is the only way to win the tournament this weekend. It shouldn’t be difficult, he already knows how to do it and he’s almost been caught multiple times. He cheated a lot of people out of a lot of money and now they’d like to see that end.”

“Can you do it?”

Arthur gives him a look and an eye-roll. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t think we could.”

Eames presses a hand dramatically to his chest. “Please tell me I haven’t been flirting with a taken man?”

“No.” Arthur rolls his eyes again. “I work with a married couple. And I’m not seeing anyone.”

“All the better for me, then.” Eames grins brightly, moving his chair a little closer.

“You seem very convinced that I’m going to let you shag me.” Arthur doesn’t move his chair away. If anything, he leans closer.

“You’re not?”

Arthur smirks but his pupils expand. “Buy me another drink and we’ll see.”

Eames waves to the bartender and it isn’t long before fresh drinks are in front of both of them. They drink slowly, talking about how they got into the business of dreams and then trading horror stories. Arthur’s chair gradually seems to move itself over until he’s almost in Eames’s lap. He has to check to make sure this is still reality when Eames rests a hand against his thigh.

“You know how mine works,” Eames says, attempting to balance his poker chip on its edge. “What about yours?”

Arthur rolls the die. Four. He rolls it again. Four.

“It’s loaded.”

Arthur nods. “If it lands on any number except four, I know that it’s a dream.” He snatches it away from Eames when he reaches for it. “Sorry, but you know not to touch another man’s totem.”

“What about touching other things?” Eames deepens his voice and leans in, eyes fixed on Arthur’s.

Arthur’s adam’s apple bobs as he swallows hard. “I have a room upstairs. Maybe we should talk more about you coming on a job with us.”

“Maybe we should.” Eames slides off the chair and slaps a few bills on the bar, more than enough to cover their drinks. “Why don’t you lead the way?”

Arthur does, glancing over his shoulder every so often like he needs to reassure himself than Eames is still there. Not realizing that, years from now, Eames will stand beside him and he’ll never have to wonder again.


End file.
